


Savior

by sp00kyjelly_beans



Category: Justified
Genre: Canon Related, Drinking, Justified/Reader, Mutual Pining, Reader-Insert, Timothy Olyphant - Freeform, gun use, season 1 ending spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-10
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-17 12:00:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29966040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sp00kyjelly_beans/pseuds/sp00kyjelly_beans
Summary: Gender-neutral reader. Loosely follows canon. Also posted on my Tumblr jasperswh0re
Relationships: Raylan Givens/Reader
Kudos: 2





	1. One

You tapped your foot violently against the tiled flooring of the bank. In ten minutes you were to be at an appointment yet this line wasn’t moving an inch. The beat of your toes hitting the ground had you bouncing at insane speeds. You hated waiting.

“You doing alright there?” You heard someone say behind you. 

You flipped around to see a taller man wearing a cowboy hat. He was looking down at you, an amused glint in his eye. He was handsome and his country drawl was deep.

“Just in a hurry,” You shrugged and smiled sheepishly. He chuckled when you turned forward to see that the line still hadn’t moved.

“Aren’t we all?”

“Kentucky life can be one hell of a doozy.”

“You’re tellin’ me…” He sighed. He was scanning the area as if he was searching for something. Though, you didn’t think much of it and held out your hand.

“(Y/n) (L/n). Nice to meet you… I haven’t seen you around before,” You introduced yourself, snapping him out of detective mode.

His grin grew wide, “Raylan Givens… I work down at the uh-… Marshall’s Service.” 

“Wow. A marshall. Do we really still have those? You look like you walked out a western film.”

Raylan’s head tilted back with laughter, making sure to hold the tip of his hat, and you felt any sense of urgency wash away. 

“Like I haven’t heard that before.”

“It’s hard not to say.”

“Oh, I’m sure.”

The two of you stared at each other for a moment. Smiles were wide on each face and the socially accepted distance for people in line was crumbling between you two. 

“You’re not from around here, are you?” Raylan said. You shook your head no. “Where you from then?”

“Way up north. Just a little town in Oregon…”

“You’re a long way from home then,” He lifted his head once more to look around the room. His eyes would flicker back to one spot, not far from the two of you, in between sentences. 

“I guess so…” You sighed. You stared at Raylan a little longer while he was focused on something else. When his gaze landed on you once more you checked the line in front of you. One person had been attended to. You and Raylan moved about two inches forward.

“What in the world is taking-”

Before you could continue complaining shots rang out inside of the tiny building. Instinctively, Raylan guarded you and brought you down to the ground. You let out a yelp, along with a few other screams from bystanders, as Raylan forced your body downwards. 

“Sorry…” He muttered.

“Get down on the ground! Everyone on your fucking stomachs!” A man in a ski mask yelled, assumably the one who started firing. You couldn’t see since Raylan was blocking your view of the man. 

No one dared to move a muscle so he lifted the gun at the nearest person to him.

Raylan, who was knelt, pulled a handgun from his holster faster than you had ever seen. The robber crippled to the ground before he could make the shot.

For a split second, you thought you were saved until another robber in a ski mask came running in with a much larger gun. It must have been automatic, you thought. You didn’t know much about weapons. Raylan directed his gun in the new robbers ‘direction but the newcomer let out a tsk.

“Nuh-uh, you put that here gun down. Or I shoot. I got two buddies coming. This won’t end well for you.”

Raylan didn’t move.

“I swear to god, man. I’ll shoot.”

Raylan thought it through in his mind. This criminal was either bluffing or telling the truth. He could shoot, adding another life to his belt but it wouldn’t matter much anyway. The authorities were on their way. The robbers were wimpy, so this wasn’t going to last long. 

He darted his eyes towards you. You were on the floor still, eyes wide with fear but otherwise did not indicate being afraid. He looked around at the people and sighed, placing down his gun slowly. 

The robber skittered towards the Marshall and kicked the gun away, holding the automatic rifle toward his face. 

“Everyone. Jewelry and cash. Now! On your stomachs!” He hollered.

And they did. Two more robbers with their faces covered came in once everyone was down and they took any valuables offered. None of the three bothered with their buddy who was bleeding out on the floor and began taking out stacks of cash. 

Before reaching the registers, one of the men stopped by your figure and grinned. A silver bracelet sat on your wrist, you had completely forgotten about it. He went for your arm and you jumped in surprise, instinctively pulling your hand away. 

The man’s smile dropped to pure rage and shoved his gun in your face, his hand still locked around your wrist, “Give it to me.”

Your mind went blank. Raylan watched, ready to pounce at any moment if any moves were made, and cursed himself for kicking his gun away. Even worse, he knew it would be too risky to pull out his backup. So, he watched the robber decisively. And watched you carefully. 

Words couldn’t formulate the feeling in your throat. You wanted to swallow badly but you feared any outside movement would end up in your head blown off. So, your hand moved slowly to unlatch the bracelet. It had zero sentimental value, so you weren’t about to make a fit.

He stalked off after snatching the thin piece of jewelry and you dropped your head in relief. One long breath of air exhaled from your lungs. 

To your left, you could hear Raylan muttering something under his breath. He was frustrated. Glaring daggers at the criminals in front of him. You studied his face while he did so. 

“It’s okay,” You whispered. 

His angry expression became thoroughly confused.

“What?” He hissed.

“It’s okay…” You repeated. “You looked angry, not only at these men but… also yourself. They won’t get away with it.”

Your ghost of a smile reassured Raylan. Everyone in this room was shaking in their boots or crying out of fear for their life. Yet here you were making sure that he was okay. Immediately after a gun was propped against your skull.

Had you not said a word, he’d have done something brash. Something that Art would definitely not be happy about. More AUSA cases, more paperwork. His gun wasn’t far, too. Instead here was this random person, laying next to him calm as can be.

And in all seriousness, you were terrified. You’ve never been a part of something so scary. But you knew just as well as Raylan that these men wouldn’t be successful. Everyone would be okay if they just complied. 

If, is the keyword here.

Not far from the two of you, one of the robbers started making trouble. It was the same one that had confronted you. A man on the floor was aggravated, he didn’t want to give up his watch. So, as expected, the robber stuck a gun to his head. Raylan looked at his gun that was a few feet away. 

The criminal continued to shove the weapon in the man’s face, screaming for the watch. 

“I will shoot you fucking dead old man. Give me the goddamn watch.”

The man shook his head furiously. The robber opened his mouth once more to yell but was interrupted by the sound of a gun clicking. 

“You wanna put that down now… don’t try anything.”

Raylan had his handgun pressed against the man’s head. His accomplices were in the back, trying to open the large safes, so the man was left on his own. 

“You wanna make the right decision now, don’t you?” Raylan’s southern drawl was calm but sharp. “You can either die right here… or go to jail. It’s that simple…”

There was no response, but the criminal set down his automatic slowly. At that moment the sound of sirens blared and officers stormed through the building. Raylan took the man by the wrists and shoved him at a nearby police officer while shouting that his buddies were in the building somewhere.

With a sigh, you watched the chaos reign through the building. Much to your surprise, Raylan approached you with a grin.

“You’re pretty weird, you know?”

“Excuse me?”

“Nothin’ bad,” Raylan folded his arms. “You weren’t afraid. You didn’t even tremble in fear.”

“I don’t tremble,” You shrugged.

“Hell, I’ll believe you. Your hand was steady when giving him your bracelet.”

“I tend to stay calm in situations like these.”

“So you’ve had something happen?” Raylan tilted his head.

You paused, thinking of the words to say. 

“I guess you could say that…” You finally smiled at the man in front of you. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“You saved all these people today. Especially that man,” You pointed at a victim. “And in a way, you saved me.”

“I couldn’t save your bracelet,” He lifted his brows. He seemed to regret that he didn’t stop the robber.

“You can make it up to me sometime…” You said, placing a hand on his upper arm. Raylan gave you a sweet smile. “See you around, cowboy.”


	2. Two

The cold countertop felt fresh against your burning cheek. You paid no mind to the clinking sound near you, along with the loud voices from the back of the bar. It had been a long day at work. You needed a drink.

“You doing alright there, hon?” The bartender asked. She was sweet. You always enjoyed her company. “Are you actually going to order something tonight?”

You lifted your heavy skull and sighed. “Long Island iced tea, please.”

The drink was sat in front of you in a matter of seconds. You took your time sipping on it, watching the bustling bar crowd around you. Well, as bustling as a bar was in this state.

You found that people in Kentucky drank differently. They were quiet. Came for peace after a long shift, similar to you. Of course, there were always the assholes creeping on women or the loud young women who were celebrating their 21st. Every bar had them.

But for the most part, they were quiet. Calm. You preferred it over the bars in Oregon.

Cool glass now empty, you left the barstool behind to play some pool. You weren’t terrible at the game, it was fun for a completionist like you. A part of you hoped you had someone to play with. Hell, even someone to spend time with outside of work. But moving down to Kentucky had you entirely cut off from your Oregon life. No friends.

Just a family you were not determined to see anytime soon. You were thankful they had no idea of your presence. You intended to keep it that way.

“Don’t I know you?” Someone said behind you. You didn’t recognize it immediately, assuming they were talking to someone else, but you rolled your eyes at the male that was attempting to hit on you.

“Probably not…” You said in an annoyed tone. You leaned on the cue and turned to see a very familiar man wearing an even more familiar cowboy hat.

“Oh that’s a shame,” Raylan said sarcastically, but a smile sat on his face. “I was trying to find the owner of this-” He held up your silver bracelet. The one stolen from you weeks ago.

“Marshall!” Your eyes widened. “What in the world… You were trying to find me?”

“Not inherently,” Raylan placed the bracelet in your palm and leaned against the pool table. “I did get it back from that asshole after the whole… ordeal.”

Raylan paused. A part of him wanted to admit that yes, he was trying to find you. Something about you had his mind running a mile a minute. Tim took notice of his distractedness during work, so he figured, why not find you? It took a while but he stumbled upon you on accident. The one time he wasn’t actively searching for you.

“I figured you wanted it back… for uh… sentimental value.”

“That’s too kind,” You smiled down at the jewelry. “Thank you, Raylan.”

You guys stared at each other happily. Somehow, the distance between you had nearly vanished. A sense of wanting washed over you both. You wanted more. He wanted more. Though, you guys weren’t sure what you wanted more of.

And more you each received.

The coming weeks were full of Raylan running into you (or meeting you, on purpose) at the same bar. Sometimes he would arrive all scuffed up from a day at work and others you could see regret in his eyes.

Raylan didn’t bring up his days at the Marshall Service very often. You were the first person he knew outside of law enforcement and Harlan. You weren’t a criminal, either. So he figured he would bring it up as little as possible. It made everything easier.

He found you mildly interesting to say at the least. You were a small-town person, he was too but his definition certainly didn’t match yours, and you grew up a simple life. You didn’t talk much of your family but rather ambitions, goals, and everything in between.

You’re a calm person, he realized. Way more collected than any person he’s met. You aren’t wild. You go with the flow. You don’t step out of line. You were no goody-two-shoes and definitely not a criminal, he could spot someone shady about a mile away.

You were just… laidback. Even when he showed up with a swelling face and a bloody nose, you wouldn’t scold him or make a fuss. If he didn’t want to talk about it, you would know.

Instead, you’d take care of him. He never had a say in, either. It didn’t matter if you had to take him to the men’s restroom to wipe away the blood and sweat. You were there for him that night, no questions asked.

Raylan found peace in this. Any night that he saw you calm flooded his body. It was like you were an escape from his day-to-day life. It was like you knew exactly what he was thinking.

Slowly but surely, this was how he began to fall for you. More time passed and he was in deep. Your meetups at the bar became a consistent thing. Every Friday night. And every Friday he got to know you a little more.

“So you haven’t told me this yet,” Raylan set his whiskey on the counter. “Why did you move to Kentucky… of all places? You’re from Oregon. I think it’s neat… so why here?”

Your calm exterior faltered for a moment. Raylan was quick to pick up on it.

“Just…” You looked to the side, avoiding his eyes. A hard mask replaced your previous expression. “No reason in particular.”

“That’s a little hard to believe…” Raylan’s eyebrows furrowed. 

“Trust me,” You flashed an unconvincing smile. “I’ve read up on you cowboy. I saw an article about your little-” You made a motion of a gun shooting with your fingers- “Down in Florida. Is that why I’ve never seen you ‘round here before?”

Raylan’s concerned face didn’t drop, but he slowly answered you, “Yeah. That’s why I’m down here. Why won’t you answer my question?”

You slammed your drink on the counter and snapped, “I never ask you questions, Raylan.”

He lifted his brows and held up his hands defensively. He opened his mouth to speak but before he could get a word out, a taller man blocked his vision of you. 

“Is he bothering you, cutie?” The man said. He was drunk as hell. “Let me take you out of here. No problem, no stress.”

Raylan glared at the figure in front of him. More than anything, he wanted to yank on the dusty flannel and shove him into the row of drinks behind the counter. He restrained himself. 

“No thanks, we’re okay,” You pursed your lips into a thin line.

“Come on…” He drawled and reached out a hand to touch your shoulder, but a hand yanked it away.

“Don’t touch,” Raylan warned. 

“Oh? What… are you their boyfriend?”

“Raylan,” You glared at him. “Don’t be stupid.”

“Yeah, Raylan,” The man teased. 

“Personal space is of the essence,” Raylan trained his eyes on the man. “Touch them again…” He breathed through his teeth. “You don’t want to find out.”

“Did you just threaten me?” The man leaned towards Raylan, their faces inches apart. Raylan didn’t answer him. “That’s what I thought…” The man turned around again, grazing his fingers across your bare knee. 

Raylan took that as an invitation to swing a fist into his head. He warned him. You leaned backward in surprise when the man stumbled, hitting his head on the counter. You could only watch, sipping on your whiskey, as the man tackled Raylan to the ground. You warned him.

The bartender forced the two men outside to fight and you didn’t follow right away. You finished your drink, eyeing the bartender who was staring back at you as if to say, “Aren’t you going to follow him?” 

Realizing that it wouldn’t go well, you dropped your head in defeat. Damn it Raylan, you thought. You gulped the rest of the alcohol and slowly walked out of the bar. You took your time, not exactly eager to see the rest of this fight. 

The cool breeze hit your skin. You loved the Kentucky breeze. Tobacco scent filled your lungs as you stared up at the golden sky. The only thing interrupting this peaceful moment was the sound of grunting and punches being thrown. 

You looked down to see Raylan getting his ass kicked. He shielded his face from the punches, his hat was a few feet away from his head. Your eyes flickered between him and the hat for a few seconds. Eventually, you walked past the fighting boys and grabbed the hat from the brim. How it managed to stay on while he was tackled… You hadn’t a clue. Every time you saw him this was glued to his scalp. 

Your fingers traced the tan object. You liked how it fit him. Somehow, he pulled it off well. But Raylan could pull anything off. Even getting the starlights beat out of him. You drew a sigh and placed the hat on a nearby bench, then approached the large man on top of your friend.

“Hey!” You yelled, kicking the side of the man. He groaned, barely pausing. “Don’t you think you’ve done enough?”

The man didn’t answer. You glared daggers, which seemed to have done enough. “Go on home… Go on!”

He let out a huff of frustration and left. You stared down at Raylan’s beaten body. 

“You’re an idiot.”

“I was drinking,” he groaned, pressing his palm to his temple. 

You grabbed his hat and sat next to him on the pavement. Some blood from his forehead spilled onto his hair, so you squeezed a strand between your thumb and your index finger, ridding it of the hot blood. It was a gentle gesture. All Raylan could do was stare at you. 

“So dumb…” You muttered. “Do you ever think with that head of yours?”

He didn’t answer.

“Always trying to save me…” You stared at him disappointedly. 

“Anything… for you,” The words slipped out. He froze, wondering if his words would scare you away, but you laughed. 

“Let’s go get you cleaned up, Marshall.”


	3. Three

Raylan was sat on your cushiony couch, staring at the living room before him.

You have a house, he thought.

For some reason, it slipped his mind that you actually lived somewhere. That you were an adult with your own life outside of his.

Weird.

It was a nice house, a nice living room. It was small, but nothing more than you needed. It matched your personality. Simple. Calm. Comforting. Every corner he saw there was either a pillow or a blanket. This house was a palace of comfort.

You were rummaging around the downstairs bathroom for a first aid kit. Bandages, rubbing alcohol aaaand… you checked a cupboard for… ibuprofen! Your hands were full with everything he needed when you entered the living room.

“Is your head still hurting?” You asked. Raylan hesitantly nodded his head. “I’ll be right back then.”

You set the medical supplies on the arm of the couch and went into the kitchen for a glass of water. Raylan watched you leave, focusing on your backside. A smirk tugged at his lips.

“What are you looking at?” You said when you re-entered, water in hand. 

“Nothing,” He said. 

“Then get that silly smile off of your face…” You chuckled half-heartedly, handing him the pain medicine and water. “Drink.”

You worked on the upper half of Raylan’s face as he sipped on the water. He eyed you while doing so. He could hear you muttering under your breath. It was cute.

Eventually, you stopped mumbling things and it was silent for a while. He watched you closely as you bandaged him and sent small warnings for when you applied alcohol. 

You scrunch your nose when you worked, he noticed. Every so often when things wouldn’t go your way, you would swipe your lips with your tongue. A small smile appeared on his face.

“You’re staring,” You muttered. You weren’t even looking directly at him. Just at the cut on his forehead.

“You’re about two inches from my face, (Y/n). You’re not giving me much of a choice.”

You didn’t answer. A few minutes later you finished, proud of your handiwork. 

“Alright… You can use my shower in the guest bedroom,” You stood up and handed Raylan his cowboy hat. “I don’t want you stinking up my sheets with your blood…” You stepped towards the stairs, looking at him expectantly.

“I’m staying here?”

“Yeah. You’re too drunk to drive and I’m too lazy to leave my house.”

Raylan entered the guest bedroom wet and squeaky clean. The cool air hit the front of his body, a towel wrapped around his waist when he came across your form on the bed. You sat crisscrossed, staring back at him with a quirked brow.

“Alright, marshall…”

“Uh-”

“I have your clothes… I was able to wash and dry them. You were in there for a long time…” You pushed Raylan’s folded clothes closer to him while on the bed. A smirk was evident on your face. 

“Thank you,” He smiled. 

You looked away as he got dressed, but you kept the conversation going while looking at the window. For a moment, you thought you saw a figure outside. It could have been an animal.

“Do you feel guilty?” You asked. 

“What do you mean?”

“For killing that man… Down in Florida,” You turned around to face him. 

At the bar, Raylan was wearing a flannel, a white top, and jeans. It was casual and something that he usually wore when meeting you. Every so often he would show up in a suit. You assumed that was his work attire.

Tonight he was aiming to be as comfortable as possible. He resorted to only the white tank-top and jeans now, since you didn’t have any pajamas that fit him. His form was muscular, his arms were much bigger than you thought.

You didn’t anticipate for him to look so… hot.

A warm feeling spread across your cheeks but you steadied your glance. He was scrubbing his hair dry with a towel when you asked, but he paused to stare back at you. The towel hung limp in his large hands. 

Instinctively, you laid down on the guest bed and patted the space next to you. He followed suit and laid his head next to yours, staring at the ceiling.

“No.”

You didn’t respond.

“He was a bad man… I come across a lot of bad men at work,” He said slowly.

“Is that why you always have that look in your eyes?” You turned your head toward him. 

He looked back at you, eyebrows raised. “What look?”

“Some days, there’s something in your eye. Like you’re thinking hard. Are you thinking about the men that you kill?”

“In a way.”

You looked back at the ceiling, “I don’t blame you.”

“In my mind, they’re all justified. Like… I don’t have any other choice but to shoot.”

Raylan’s words sounded like a confession. It wasn’t very often that he talked about work but he figured you would ask at some point.

You spent the next hour listening to Raylan’s work stories. Most of them were about him down in Florida. The marshall also talked about his younger life in Harlan County. As of right now, he was worried about a childhood friend, Boyd Crowder.

The two of you were comfortable in bed. You found yourself settled under the blankets and warming up very quickly, Raylan’s voice was calm. His southern drawl was comforting, like a lullaby. You didn’t even feel your head droop from the backboard of the bed to Raylan’s shoulder.

As soon as he felt you lean against him, Raylan tensed. They must be asleep now, he thought. He chuckled to himself once he realized he talked you to sleep. But now he found himself in a dilemma.

He couldn’t move.

Otherwise, if he did, you’d wake up. No way was going to happen.

Raylan was successful in turning out the lamp next to the bed but otherwise, he stayed completely still. He basked in your presence until the alcohol in his body forced him to pass out.

The sound of a door opening and closing forced Raylan awake. His first thought ran to you but you found your way snuggled even closer to him than when he fell asleep. Who the hell was in the house?

The floorboards creaked and the door slammed open. The lack of light prevented Raylan from seeing anything about the man. Anything except the fact that he was holding a shotgun.

Raylan’s eyes widened and encapsulated your frame with his arms. Before the man could take the first shot you both were flipped onto the floor. 

Gunshots woke you up instantly. There had to at least been five. You felt yourself jolt up to see what was happening but Raylan’s hand was placed on your chest, forcing you back down.

You barely had a chance to ask what the hell was happening as Raylan scurried towards the intruder on the floor. While he did so a bullet hit the window, shattering it near you. You involuntarily let out a scream and pushed yourself near the bed to avoid the broken glass. 

Right after that Raylan managed to punch the intruder, forcing him to drop his gun. It clattered under the bed and landed next to your palm. You drew back in fear but listened to the two men fight, so you grabbed the weapon. 

There were very few times in your life that you handled a gun. This was one of them.

It didn’t help that it was darker than night inside of your home but you adjusted the shotgun to your ability and waited for the intruder to pass. 

Raylan must have gotten a hold of his own handgun because more shots rang out in the tiny bedroom. 

You could see the figure dart towards the window. That’s when you took your shot. 

Both of you missed the man as he made his way out. Raylan launched himself toward the broken window and shot a few more times. One grunt was heard. Then silence.

He got away.

You rested your head against the bed frame, allowing the heaving weapon to go limp in your arms. You were breathing heavily. 

Raylan turned on the light and walked slowly towards you. His eyebrows were raised and his expression was serious. He knelt to your level, his gun still in his right hand. His eyes were pleading.

“Now… Are you going to tell me who the hell that was…” He licked his lips. “And why the hell you’re in Kentucky?”


	4. Four

You were forced into protection by the U.S. Marshall service the morning after the attack. Raylan didn’t give you much of a choice. The unanswered question still lingered in the air. 

You never answered him. You’ve been dead silent since the night before. It was starting to give him a headache. Actually, maybe that was the hangover.

Raylan was pacing around his workspace, waiting for your interview with his coworkers to end. He didn’t have the opportunity to sit in on the interview since Art said it was a conflict of interest.

Eventually, Rachel and Tim left the conference room simultaneously. You stayed in your seat while thinking over everything. Raylan wanted to go and comfort you but he needed answers.

The look in his eyes was enough for Rachel to skip past him, throwing some excuse to grab a coffee. Tim attempted to do the same but Raylan placed a hand on his coworker’s chest and stopped him in his place.

“Why are they here?” Tim remained silent. “Tim-” He said slowly, keeping his eyes on the ground- “If I don’t know why they’re here... Then I can’t help them. Any information you give me can save their life.”

The deputy looked to the side and sighed, “They’re in Kentucky because of some sort of family thing.”

“Family thing?”

Tim met his friend’s eyes, “They’re distantly related to the Crowder’s. They suspect that Bo Crowder is after them.”

Raylan was frozen where he stood. His eyes flickered to you in the conference room. The rim of his hat barely hid his deadly glance. 

You were messing with a dent on the table. You could feel his stare. All you wanted to do was melt away forever.

“Alright,” Raylan held his composure. “I’m taking them out of town.”

“Art knew you would say that. I’m coming with you.”

The majority of the car ride was silent and Tim could feel the tension in the air. As he sat in the passenger’s seat, his eyes would dart between you and Raylan.

You were comfortable in the backseat. Tim was kind enough to get you coffee from the office, as crappy as it was. As usual, you were unnervingly calm.

Raylan tapped his fingers against the steering wheel, biting down on his lower lip. Everything he wanted to let out he held in for as long as he could.

The two marshalls concluded that it would be best if you stayed at Raylan’s motel. Your room was next door and easy access for both of them. But the three of you stayed in Raylan’s room for the time being. You still never spoke.

“Well, I’m gonna turn in,” Tim stood. “Raylan, are you taking the bed or will you be a gracious host?”

Raylan threw a playful glare at his coworker and gestured towards the bed. You stood from your seat across from him.

“I’ll walk you back to your room,” Raylan stood up quicker than any bullet shot from his gun. You held up a hand to stop him but he followed anyway.

“Goodnight, Raylan,” You said, facing the doorway and clutching the knob. Raylan flipped you around by the shoulder, keeping you against the wooden frame.

“What is the matter with you?”

“Excuse me?” You stared at him with a certain harshness. His brown eyes were desperate.

“You’re- ...You’re insane! You’re completely insane, (Y/n),” Raylan whined. “Someone is after you and you’re sitting like a duck. A duck waiting to be shot.”

“I am not a duck, Raylan.”

“You know that’s not the point,” He stuck his finger at you.

"Then what is the point?”

Raylan’s voice went up in volume. “The point is that you’re not afraid!” 

“Why should I be?” You matched his voice.

“Because you could die!” Raylan lifted his hands as if he was about to cup your face but didn’t. His large hands dropped while he stared at the floor, trying to wipe the stress off of his face. 

“The fact is you nearly died,” He talked slowly. “...And with your lack of a response to the situation... I am inclined to believe that you’re not bothered by that fact.”

It took a while for you to respond.

“I’m not.”

“Why?” He whined. “Why in the world are you okay with that?”

You looked away from his face, afraid of what you could say when staring into his eyes. “I’m not okay with it. It’s just... complicated.”

“Try me.”

You looked back at him after a moment passed. It dawned on you that he hadn’t stopped staring at you in the past thirty-six hours. Like you would vanish at any second.

The Kentucky breeze flew by your figures. A cool comparison to the heat your bodies shared. 

Raylan was so worried. You hated to see him like this. If he knew the truth, would it make everything better or worse?

You drew a long sigh and pushed Raylan onto the outdoor furniture on the porch. His hard gaze remained.

“Assuming you know I’m related to the Crowder’s,” You began. “Only distantly... But not distant enough.”

“I’m aware of the Crowders,” Raylan said. “I didn’t know you were from Harlan.”

“I’m not,” You said. “Not really. My parents had me in Louisiana, but when I was three I moved to Kentucky. In another small town not far from Harlan... We visited often.”

You scratched your forearm, suddenly nervous. Raylan had never seen you like this. You continued.

“Long story short, my parents got involved in the drug business that Bo Crowder was in charge of. They never repaid their debts and...” You could feel yourself tearing up. “Now they’re gone. They had someone sent up to Oregon to off them... Honestly, the Crowder’s have been tormenting my life since.”

You didn’t dare look him in the eye as he placed a comforting hand on your back. 

“I figured I would just get it over with... I have no money to spare so-”

“So you just offer yourself up... Like- like... Some sort of sacrifice?” Raylan stared at you wildly.

“I have nothing to lose, Raylan,” You met his furious eyes. “I have nothing left in my life. The only family I had left in the world is gone.”

All Raylan could do was stare at you. He watched as silent tears trickled down your cheeks. He inched towards your figure and inclined his head to place a subtle kiss on your cheek, where the tear streaks ran.

You looked at him dumbfounded and found yourself unable to speak. Raylan gently kissed your other cheek, then continued to do this until his lips met yours. They were hesitant. Gentle. You leaned into his body, finally allowing him in. 

Your hands lifted to his cheeks. You could feel the stubble on his skin as you inhaled his scent. He tasted like whiskey but smelled like Cypress. 

Somewhere along the lines of this, you found yourself pressed against the cushiony duvet of your motel bed. Raylan’s large hands trailed all over your body as you did your best to rip off his extra clothing. 

By the end of the night, you both were cozied under the covers. Raylan’s grasp on you was tight. With one arm under and another over your torso, his head rested comfortably on your own, you stayed in a spooning position. Neither of you spoke for a long time but remained awake.

“I’m here,” Raylan finally said.

You hummed in response, too tired to speak. 

“You said everyone was gone... Well... I’m here,” His southern drawl was deep and full of compassion. 

“Raylan...”

“No, no... You had your time to speak,” He said. “...You know... I’ve been running around this damned state for weeks. Hell of a lot longer before you came along.”

You stayed silent.

“And I get it. I know how easy it is to give up. I don’t love it here, not as much as the next person,” He chuckled. “But laying eyes on you, that day we met... Life felt a little different in Kentucky. I found myself involuntarily looking for you... How weird is that?”

You gave a tiny laugh, holding Raylan’s hand against your beating heart. “Kinda weird...”

He sighed, “Then I saw you in that bar again. For a split second, it was like I could breathe. It was like I was drowning and you were the breath of fresh air.”

Taking in Raylan’s words, you didn’t say a thing. You slowly kissed his fingertips before falling into a deep sleep. When your breathing steadied, Raylan nestled his face into the crook of your neck. He slept peacefully for the first time in weeks.


End file.
